19. Nineteen
Nineteen
9-1-2024
It’s a beautiful view—one I could sit and admire forever.
-Jasmine
No matter how long I stand under the steaming hot spray, I still can’t gather myself. I want to cry, scream, and laugh all at the same time. What just happened was horrifying, yet I feel my thighs clenching at the mere memory of it. Another knock hits the door, and I almost groan at the sound.
Since I came in here, he has been trying non-stop to get in and help, but I don’t want any aftercare. I don’t want to think about this any more than I already have.
This time, instead of waiting for my usual “I’m fine,” he pushes the door open, and his shadow emerges behind the curtain.
“Listen…” he whispers. I cross my arms over my chest, contradicting the motion by leaning closer to the thin barrier between us. “I, uh… can answer any questions you want to ask. You’ll just have to be patient with me.”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see it. He can’t answer my questions right now; everything is too monitored. Why does his voice suddenly sound so gentle? It’s usually harsh and devoid of any emotion, but right now, it almost sounds—
Right, cameras. There I go again, thinking more deeply about this than I need to.
“I want to show you something when you're done.” There's a shuffling sound like he’s setting something down. “I'll be in our room.”
His hand rises toward the barrier before he pushes his hair back and rushes out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I tilt my head under the water, fighting back the feelings burning through my skin. This was never supposed to lead to this.
Despite my inner turmoil, curiosity wins. I slide open the shower curtain, wrap a towel around my chest, and use another fluffy one to dry my hair. I skip my usual brushing routine and stare at the silky pajama set I know I didn’t lay out.
This adds yet another question to my growing list. Pulling on my clothes, I take a deep breath, letting the comforting scent I’ve held onto for too long envelop me.
When the door opens, I almost collide with the bare chest of the man I should fear. Instead, I find myself leaning into the warmth he radiates, squinting at the scars and tattoos I’ve been trying to memorize.
Sam clears his throat, drawing my attention to a barely visible grin spreading across his face. However, before it can transform into that toothy smile I adore, he turns away, leaving his scent to envelop me like a toxic cloud, ready to overwhelm my senses.
I rush after him, nearly drooling from how his gray sweatpants hang low on his hips and strain against his thighs with each large stride. Jesus Christ, you’d think I would be put off by now. I should be avoiding anything remotely sexual when it comes to him, but I can't. He has transformed something that terrified me into something that makes me eager to show him how willing I am to let him hold my life in his hands.
I trust him. While he may fear the control slipping through his fingers, I relish how it falls into my palms.
I gnaw at my bottom lip, mesmerized by how his muscles ripple with each step he takes, from the curve of his waist up to his shoulder blade. We walk through the hotel room door and down the hall. I’m supposed to be gathering myself, but I can’t. He has awakened a part of me that I knew existed but had refused to acknowledge. He makes me feel seen and wanted while also evoking feelings of fear and punishment.
Instead of heading toward the elevator, he turns and enters a staircase. I pause, glancing up the two flights and then down to the various spiral staircases leading to the bottom floor.
“What are we doing?” I nearly laugh as I watch him glance back at me, the flashing light from the exit sign casting a mischievous, boyish charm across his features.
I’m so utterly screwed.
“You'll ruin the surprise,” he grumbles, though his tone is softer than usual. “Stop being difficult, and come on.”
Kicking into gear, I try to take two steps at a time to keep up with his movements, but I end up winded by the time we reach the top. Sam presses his palm firmly against a metal door and turns his head to study me as I lean against the wall, placing a hand on my chest to calm my breathing.
“You’d think with all the trekking you do on the wall, you’d be able to handle a few flights,” he mutters.
“Sam.” I hiss, and he chuckles, a sound that leaves me momentarily breathless for an entirely different reason.
“Close your eyes.”
I raise an eyebrow, and he huffs in response, losing the humor I once brought him. Stepping around me, he covers my eyes.
That familiar fear resurfaces—the fear of the unknown and what’s coming next. It coils tightly in my abdomen, causing me to shift on my feet. A harsh gust slams against my damp skin, shuddering through my bones. Instinctively, I step back into the solid barrier of his body.
“Just breathe,” he murmurs in my ear. I obey, stumbling over my feet as he guides us onto something cold, lined with stray pebbles that occasionally stick to my heel. I stop to brush the pad of my foot against my leg to shake off the sensation, but he nudges me again, and the surface shifts to something soft.
“Why do you like being on the wall so much?”
“I can see the world from there,” I reply, my voice monotone.
“Your shifts are at night. Are you really going to stand here and tell me it’s because you can see in the dark?” he murmurs, tilting my head slightly as his scruff tickles my neck. “Or will you tell me the truth?”
I feel this insane urge to bite his hand because it wasn’t a lie. Technically, it does feel like I can see the whole world right before the sun sets. Quickly regaining my composure, I huff and shift on my feet.
“I like it when everything goes dark. Some nights, the sky is clear enough to see the stars, and the wall is so high it feels like I can reach out and touch them.” My voice drops to a whisper as I fiddle with the hem of my shirt, hoping he can't hear the vulnerability in my tone. “No matter where I go, I feel trapped, but I’ve always heard that in heaven, you’re free. It’s probably the closest I’ll ever get.”
I didn't mean for everything to spill out like that, but not being able to see his glare makes it easier to confide in him.
“The stars get their chance to shine,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. Slowly, his hand glides down, curling around my jaw, and tilting my head back to see every speckle that paints the dark blanket above as I open my eyes. He steps away, taking his warmth with him, and I force myself to look away from the heavens to watch as he plops down onto a fluffy blanket with a gruff huff.
He studies the sky, which isn’t shadowed by clouds or terrible weather like it often is back home, a slight furrow in his brow. The smile lines I always find so intriguing seem deeper than usual, creating perfect shadows along his cheekbones. The twitch of his lip draws my attention to a scar I’ve never noticed before, prompting me to tilt my head in curiosity.
It’s a beautiful view—one I could sit and admire forever.
I tear my gaze away from him and lie on the makeshift bed.
“Did you set this up?” I whisper, raising my hand in the air to test my previous theory, but of course, I can’t touch the glowing orbs. I keep it hovering anyway.
“There's no camera up here, which means there's no invasion of privacy,” he murmurs, avoiding my question. I wiggle my fingers, watching the stars disappear behind one digit and reappear around the other.
It feels like I can finally breathe.
“If I ask you questions, will you do the same?” I ask quietly, staying lost in a trance in the pitch black.
“If you want answers, you have to give them.”
“I…” pausing, I draw in a calming breath. “What if you don’t like the answers?”
“I could say the same thing. I’ve never lied to you, though, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t lie to me.”
I scrunch my nose and, after a moment of contemplation, nod. I turn my head and see that he is already focused on me. My nerves start to send shocks from my toes up to my nose.
“What was your childhood like?” I ask, unsure if he has any triggers but deciding it’s best to start with the basics.
“Not even going to start easy on me?” He chuckles a humorless laugh while ruffling his hair, and I take a moment to look at the artwork on his arm. “I didn’t have a terrific childhood. My parents died when I was young–It's a pity what drugs can do–my uncle was forced to take me in. He already had a kid, so I assumed…”
I sit on my elbow and try to read his expression–to understand how deep this goes–but it’s impossible. He mimics my movements and leans back, focusing solely on me.
“My cousin was older, so he left before I did. He ended up moving across the country while I sat and suffered. When I turned eighteen, my uncle sold me to Chaos, and I promised myself that I would never be weak again.”
“I think you're pretty strong,” I mutter, but he doesn’t smile. His eyes look hollow, as if there's no life behind them, and I worry I may have crossed a line.
“I’m the weakest thing there is. I became what I feared. I took from those like me—small and unable to defend themselves.” He begins to speak, so I clear my throat and try to intervene.
“But you were trained to do that, right? That’s—”
“I told you, I’m not a good man, Jasmine. So it shouldn’t come as a shock when I say I don’t regret it.”
“Do you regret anything?” I whisper, and his brows furrow as he pushes a damp strand of hair off my neck.
“No.” his fingers glide lightly around my throat, but he doesn’t press down. Instead, he brushes his thumb over my pulse point. “Every action I’ve taken has led me to where I’m meant to be.”
My silence becomes heavy, and he raises an eyebrow.
“I, um…” I lie back down and look at the sky, prompting him to withdraw his touch.
“When the Chaos War began, my father established his empire. My mother stood proudly by his side, and my little sister and I grew up comfortably.” I clear my throat, trying to ease the tension in my shoulders. The urge to lie conflicts with the need for truth, so I do what I do best and avoid both.
“Then I was found by you, and that was it.”
“Arrested.” he corrects me, but I don’t reply as I keep my gaze fixed on the sky above.
“What put you in… you know.” I trail off.
“I won't talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“When you go through the things I went through to become who I am, you lose control.”
My brows furrow as I try to understand, but I can’t because he contradicts himself.
“You’re afraid of losing control, but you like it?”
“I like things I can predict. I know how much blood I can draw with a certain stab wound or what a scream will sound like when robbing someone of air. I like being in control of taking or saving a life... I don't like not being able to stop myself.”
I shouldn’t let myself know him like this, but now that I'm getting every little detail, I can’t help but hold on like they are the most precious things in the world.
“It was only supposed to be one person, but things started to blur together. One body turned into two, then four, then seven, until I finally took the one I wanted.” His breathing quickens, and I feel the urge to place my hands on his chest to slow it down.
“You asked four questions, by the way,” he murmurs, running his hand through his hair again.
“I know,” I reply, but I’m stuck staring at the side of his head, searching for a way into his hell.
“Why didn't you run tonight?” he huffs, breathing heavily. “While we were out there.”
“I didn’t want you to die. ‘Till death do us part,’ right?” I smile, trying to ease the tension in the conversation.
“You say that, but you constantly remind me that this isn't real,” he grumbles. My smile fades as he finally looks back at me with the same expression he wore the first time he kissed me.
“I know. I just can’t tell if it’s real or not anymore.”
“I’ve told you, I’ve never once lied to you. So, what do you think?”
I bite my lip, and he leans back, supporting his weight on his elbow, pulling my lip back with his thumb.
“It's always been real, little devil. Trust me.”
“What if… what if I've done something wrong and you can’t forgive me? I bet you wouldn’t want it to be real then.”
He grins and stands, waving his hand over his shoulder to motion for me to follow. I look up at the stars before relenting and carefully stepping behind him. The large city below is illuminated by lights lining the skyscrapers, and cars buzz around as if no one ever sleeps. He kicks at the small ledge that barely comes up to his knees, and my stomach drops as I realize just how high we are.
“That’s an unnecessary question because you should know the answer. Try something different.” Sam murmurs, but he doesn't look back, even when I grip his wrist, terrified he’ll fall over the side with one wrong move.
“How did they hurt you?” I could have asked for something more logical but I want to delve into the darkness.
My attention shifts to where my hand rests on him, and since he hasn’t pulled away or told me to stop touching him, I push my luck, letting my fingers drift to his back, tracing the scars that mark his skin.
“Which people? If you're asking about my uncle, then I'd tell you he beat me, forced drugs on me, and let his friends have rounds, seeing how many punches it'd take until Brady was finally involved. If you're asking about Chaos, there are too many ways to describe it. I was with them for years before the war started, so Carlisle had plenty of time to turn me into what he needed.”
I raise my hand as he takes a deep breath and turns to face me completely. His gaze moves back and forth between my outstretched palm and his chest before he says, “If you give me time, I’ll share every story that my scars hold. I’ll tell you the names of the faces that haunt my mind.”
"You don’t have to tell me… just show me," I whisper.
"I’m not the type of man who deserves you. I'm dark and destructive." He pauses, tilting his head as he takes my hand, guiding my fingers to trace the battered skin on his chest. "But I promise I'll always make sure you shine, even through the chaos."
Suddenly, all our moments together flash through my mind. As I pause to find the right words, I realize it's always been him and me. He’s been there for every mistake, even the ones he doesn't know about, standing by me like an indestructible wall.
“So think long and hard about what you’re asking for, Jasmine, because being able to hold you in that position tonight is exactly what you’re asking for: seeing my darkest sides.”
“Did it help?” I mutter, and he laughs, tilting his head back toward the sky, making his chest shake under my palm.
“I didn't want to relive my past or think about the people I've hurt. I was fixated on your look and feel.”
“I was once trapped in a blazing building because my father crossed the wrong people,” I almost whisper. If he can be open, the least I can do is give him a little in return. His arm wraps around my waist, turning us so that my back is toward the drop.
“I hate fire. I hate the sting of smoke in my eyes. I hate the smell of charred wood. I hate how the flames feel when they get too close, but I would burn for you.” My heart pounds in my ears as I feel the back of my knees skim the ledge. My eyes dart between his, dilated to the point where they're almost black.
He shakes his head, “You’d never have to do that for me.”
I yelp, grabbing onto his arms as he shifts his hand to clutch my shirt, pushing me back until the upper half of my body dangles over the ledge.
“I would save you before this perfect skin could be touched by anything else but me,” he murmurs, arching my back slightly to trail his lips along my neck. The fear of him letting me go consumes me, but I always have wanted to know what it’d be like to let him hold my life in his hands. Closing my eyes, I focus on how my hair flows toward the drop, and the strain makes my muscles protest, but I relax within his grip.
“You’ve always trusted me,” he huffs, and suddenly my knees are thumping into the concrete roof. “Now I’m trusting you, little devil.”
My eyes open, flicking between his feet on either side of my legs. Those words are ones I always wanted to hear but know I never deserved. My heart thuds against my ribs as I try to categorize everything I need to spill before he decides to give me something so precious.
“I—I need to explain a few things. I don’t want any secrets.” I rush out, raising my line of sight to the shadows dancing across his features, creating a menacing arch in his furrowed brows.
“So, we’re coming clean about everything? Does that mean this is the right time to tell you our marriage isn’t fake?” His fingers tangle in the hair at the back of my head as he leans in, brushing his nose against mine."It's surprising how easy it is to legalize marriage with just a few clicks instead of making false reports."
His words catch me off guard, so I try to pull away from his grip, but his hold tightens, sending a shockwave through my spine.
“What is it, little devil?” He taunts.
“You're insane.” I rasp, and his jaw flexes
"You want a divorce? I'll bury any lawyer you try to obtain. You want to run? Just know I love a good chase, and believe me when I say I will catch you.” He bends and brings his face inches from mine. “You want to get rid of me? Then you better fucking kill me because it's until death do us part, Darlin’. Even after, I'll wait in hell for you.”
With that, he crashes his mouth into mine, and I lose all my morals when I moan. He pulls my lip between his teeth and nips the flesh hard enough that when he pulls away, I feel the blood trickle down my chin.
“You already know that, though, don't you?” He groans, lifting his free hand to drag his thumb through the flow, smearing it up to my cheek as I nod. It's both feral and terrifying, but I can't imagine wanting anyone else to look at me the way he does.
It's as if he's on death row, and I'm his last meal.
“Such a pretty little mess.” He huffs, and my thighs clench in response. I flick my tongue out to clean my lip, but he hooks his thumb into my mouth, gripping my chin and tilting my head further over the ledge.
“Don’t you fucking dare. I want to see your favorite color stain my cock.”
God, he’s filthy and so damn hot. He grips the ledge, tempting the fall while pushing my head to rest against the low ridge.
“You’ll fall.” I gasp, pushing against his abdomen to try and get him to step back. His head lolls forward with a laugh, and his hooded eyes bore into mine. I grip the back of his calves as he quickly pushes down his sweats, and his dick springs free, bobbing from how stiff it is.
“I’ve been forced to hang by my feet with the knowledge that if I slipped, I’d die. Trust me, you are the only thing that will make me fall.”
I open my mouth, wanting to know every one of these horrifying things he went through so that I can share the burden. But, he takes the opportunity to shove his dick so far to the back of my throat that my nails dig into his skin, and my throat constricts around the sheer size, trying to infiltrate.
He pulls back, allowing me to catch my breath as I struggle to keep my bleary vision on him. It feels like I'm staring at a monster. His once-slicked-back hair now falls over his brows as his mouth parts and his brows furrow.
It's addicting.
I push my head up from the ledge, urging him to keep going, and he slides his hand under my nape, making my hair tangle between his fingers. He pushes back forward but slower this time. As if he’s savoring the way I curl my tongue along his shaft and let my jaw go slack for him.
“I never knew I’d need someone like this.” He huffs as he holds steady. His cock swells, refusing me air.
“I always thought I’d live happily with the faces that haunt me, but having your voice replace all others is almost calming.” He groans, pulling back again, and I greedily suck in air through my nose. He rocks slowly, his taste embedding its way into my tongue, and I swallow against his tip when it hits the back.
“It’s not as good as how much of a whore you are for me, though,” He hisses as his hips snap forward, making me gag. All blood rushes to my head, and my lip burns from the friction he creates against the wound. I expect his focus to stray to the drop below as he uses my throat like it’s his toy, but with each rigid vein that rolls against my tongue, his eyes stay hooded and locked onto mine.
“Catch your breath while you can.” He huffs as he releases my hair to grip his shaft. I can't help but stare as he strokes the mixture of my saliva and blood, coating the length. He might be right; I am a whore for him. I drag my tongue up his thigh, desperate for the taste of his skin.
“Fuck, that’s it, Darlin’.” He groans, and his neck rolls. I’d never beg for any man, but being on my knees at his feet, watching the muscles of his chest flex under the stars, makes me want to pray to him like he is some sort of God. “Stick that filthy tongue out for me.”
I don't waste any time tilting my head back and opening my mouth wide. His hand runs over his chest as he slaps his cock against the muscle.
“I told you it’s been a while, so I don’t know how long I’ll last. If it becomes too much to handle, just squeeze my thigh.”
With a cocky grin, I wrap my tongue around the tip, my lips drag over the skin, and he jerks in response. He drops his hand to my throat to hold my head where I can’t move from the spot and pushes deeper. I cough and sputter around him.
There’s something so powerful about knowing I’m the woman he chose to let loose like this with. I'm the one he decided to give what he’s held back for so long.
“Goddamn, I can feel my cock right…” he pauses, tapping his thumb to the spot. “Here.”
My eyes clench shut as tight as my thighs from the force he uses to fuck my mouth. Visions of what it’ll be like to have him between my legs instead start to flood in, and his pants come out in ragged huffs. Those noises will sound so good in my ear when he's begging me to let him ruin me.
“This is what you get with me.” He moans as he slowly draws back, and I feel the tears start to streak down my cheeks.
“I’m not going to be easy and sweet.” He slams back into my throat, holding still and gripping around my jugular, making sure if there's an opening for me to breathe, it won’t last very long.
“I'm not going to make love to you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”
My head pounds and spots start to dot my vision.
“I was created to destroy everything I touch, and you won’t be any different.”
My lashes flutter, and my nails dig into his legs hard enough that I won’t be surprised if I see blood through the fabric later. He picks up his pace with a low groan and pushes his hand beneath my head against the ledge. With each rough thrust, my head bobs back against his knuckles. It feels like we’re falling over the ledge, heading toward the concrete below. I should be terrified, but I would gladly accept my fate as long as I’m holding onto him.
My nostrils flare as my tongue warms, grounding me in the moment.
“But you’re going to shine even in my darkness, right?” He abruptly jerks away, drops to his knees, and his nose brushes against mine.
I try to nod, but his fingers curling into my cheeks makes it impossible. With the way he leans in, I half expect him to kiss me with his come still on my tongue so my lips part, but he tilts my head back and spits instead.
“Swallow. Take everything I have to give you.” He bites out, shoving his fingers to the back of my throat so I have no choice but to obey.
“There you go. That’s it, Darlin’.” He coaxes as he slowly withdraws his hand while the one behind my head curls around the nape of my neck, drawing me to his chest.
“You’re… insane…” My voice is hoarse and strained, but I can’t help grinning at the warmth of his skin against mine.
“You’re just as crazy as I am for letting me do that.” He huffs as he pulls us back onto the fluffy blanket.
His fingers massage my hair and then glide down along my throat as if trying to soothe the rawness I feel. I don’t believe I’m crazy; I’ve just found someone I trust.
“Tell me a war story?” I rasp, and his knees tuck beside my waist, holding me snugly in his embrace so the steady thump of his heart against my back.
“Where do I begin?” He laughs, and I smile. For the first time in a long while, I’m not thinking; I’m just numb. Soaked, for sure, but also blissfully blank.